


Like Mother Like Daughter

by Third__Writer



Series: Insecurities [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28110600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Third__Writer/pseuds/Third__Writer
Summary: I’m well aware that I came from a family of heartbreak and trauma. My grandmother lost her will to live when my grandfather died. My other grandfather had to settle for someone he didn’t love, like his fathers before him. And I have a mother that abandoned her two children and husband, who had just started to feel that life could be good again.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's Child(ren)/Original Male Character(s), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Insecurities [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016623
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Like Mother Like Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicide.

I try to keep it far from my mind as I work with my father. A three-tier red velvet cake had been requested and I wanted to make the surprise chocolate birthday cake for Rye, my younger brother and a spitting image of my father—except for the eyes. His eyes are steely gray, something he gained from our mother. I can tell Dad finds it very hard to look Rye in the eye, even after all these years. 

For me it’s worse. He can’t look at me without crying somewhat, especially since I’m pretty much a carbon copy of her.

I hate her. I remember when I was eight, my mother giving me a pearl and telling me to take care of it, as it represents a symbol of hope and that things will get better. She went out to the woods, and my father came back a few minutes later, looking at my hands and sprinting back outside, calling out her name. I made sure to follow him, finding my mother with nightlock juice spilling out of her mouth, my father sobbing hysterically.

I guess that was the reason I lost my bubbly attitude. I stopped talking to people, my drawings that were displayed at school were of wilted flowers and implications that someone died, and I cried with Dad while I helped him paint memories. I saw a therapist with him, though it really didn’t do much for the both of us. Even five-year-old Rye had noticed something was off, so he tried to make it better by being the optimistic one.

“Willow, what’s wrong?”

His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I continue decorating the birthday cake. “Nothing.”

“You stopped decorating for a solid fifteen minutes. If that doesn’t say something’s wrong, I don’t know what does.”

I’m well aware that I came from a long line of heartbreak and trauma. My grandmother lost her will to live when my grandfather died. My other grandfather had to settle for someone he didn't love, like his fathers before him. And I have a mother that abandoned her two children and husband who just started to feel that life could be good again. I can’t burden him with the possibility that I’ll continue the tradition.  _ But he’s your dad,  _ I chide myself. So I take a deep breath. “If it weren’t for  _ her, _ I’d have the guts to try and date someone.”

He blinks back tears. “Care to explain what’s got that in your head?”

I sigh. “Bryce confessed that he’s been in love with me, and he wants to be more than friends. And I just ran away. I know I’m breaking his heart, but it’ll be worse if I try. That I’ll eventually leave him…” I look up at him, but he lowers his own and starts breathing hard. Ever since we’ve been left to ourselves, Dad’s mental health has gone downhill, but luckily he could still take care of us when he wasn’t having an episode.

But before he says anything, Rye barges through the back door and whoops. “Lucky for us, we’re gonna have venis—“ he stops short when he sees the cake and the look in Dad’s eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I should have—Dad, are you okay?”

He nods slowly, and I know his gaze can’t meet Rye’s eyes—he focuses on the nose and ears.

...

  
“So today's her birthday,” Rye says as we walk to the woods.

“How do you know?”

“It’s pretty obvious. Father closed the bakery for the day and so far, he had one nothing but sketch and paint pictures of our mother.”

“And he told you?”

“And he told me,” he confirms, reaching for his bow and quiver. “Do you want to do anything special today?”

I scoff. “No. And why would I care? She abandoned us and Dad’s still in a poor mental condition. She’s not the Mockingjay, she’s a coward.”

He stops walking. “Have you considered that she might have been in a poor mental state too? That she might have had dark thoughts?”

“Didn’t Father still manage to take care of us? He still has flashbacks and yet he hasn’t committed suicide?” My voice starts rising and Rye knows I’m right.

“But she loved us—“

“If she loved us then she wouldn’t have left!” I scream, and the tears come. I hadn’t cried over her since I understood what happened, but now I’m bawling like the child I was when I saw her last. “Why did I have to be cursed with her looks? Why can’t I look just like you so Dad won’t be so sad?”

Rye doesn’t answer, instead he just holds me like he did years ago. It barely passed my mind that I collapsed. “You know, sometimes I wish I had Dad’s eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look at my nose or ears all the time. But then again we wouldn’t have the missing piece of her portrait.”

“Rye…”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know why I’m crying over her now,”

“It’s simple. Bryce asked you out and you were afraid that what happened to our family will happen to your potential love life. But there’s no harm in trying, right? You know, I asked Dad if he regretted everything that happened. And do you know what he said?”

“Rye—“

“I know I keep talking, but just hear me out. He said that despite what happened in the end, there were memories, and there was us. The good things that came out of the bad. Even if it was just for twenty-five years.”

“Twenty-five doesn’t sound like a lot.”

“You’ll have even less time if you don’t give him a try.”


End file.
